One Night in a Bar
by Rinnalaiss
Summary: First in Series. On the way to a job, the Winchesters find themselves in a dive bar on a lake in the middle of nowhere in the Adirondacks. There's something about the bartender that Dean can't quite put his finger on... and it's not just that she's cute. Yes, there is something more to this woman. Time Frame: Season 1, unspecified. Rated T for language. Setting up for Dean/OC.


The bar was a bit of a dive. It was not too dingy or dirty and might have had a friendly air. It was clearly a family establishment, given the group of kids shooting pool in the corner. But, hey, booze was booze and Dean Winchester was not going to complain about where it came from. And _hello_, the woman behind the bar was a cutie.

"What can I get you?" she asked, leaning towards him over the counter.

Dean cocked a half grin and adjusted himself on the bar stool so that he, too, was leaning over the counter. "What kind of beer you got? I'm not that picky."

Tucking a chin length piece of brown hair behind her ear and chuckling, she asked, "Gotta preference for pale ale, lager, or stout?"

"How 'bout a lager?" he responded, straightening. "And make it two, uh, if you please." He tacked the last bit on after a pause.

"Two?" She asked, opening the first bottle with her bare hands. When she opened the second bottle, Dean realized that the ring on her middle finger was actually a bottle opener.

He gestured at a man seen in the window behind the bar. "My brother. He went down to the dock to check out the lake."

The woman turned back to him. "You folks here for the wedding, then? I know there's one in the chapel tomorrow."

Dean shook his head and took a pull from the bottle. "Nah, just passing through. We've got some business up in Stillwater to take care of and we're just stopping here."

She nodded to the figure who pulled a seat up next to him. "This your brother?"

The taller man extended a hand. "Sam," he introduced.

The woman smiled and shook it. "Jenn." She turned to the brother she had been speaking to and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Dean Winchester." They shook hands.

Jenn gestured to the beer Sam just took a sip of. "What do you think?"

Sam looked at the bottle. "Saranac? It's good."

Jenn started wiping down the bar around them. "It's a local brewery—out of Utica. You can only really find it around here. It was a bitch trying to find it while I was away at school."

"Oh, college girl?" Dean saluted his brother with his bottle. "Just like you, Sammy."

Sam glared good-naturedly at Dean, before turning to Jenn. "Actually, I have a question."

She put the rag down. "Shoot."

"What's with the old, broken tennis racquet just inside the front door?"

Jenn let out a laugh. "Boy, you guys really aren't from around here, are you?"

They looked at each other and then back at her.

"You ever heard of Grace Brown?"

Dean shook his head. "No, who was she?"

Jenn leaned on the counter. "Well, she was a young factory worker… about 20 when she and a man named Chester Gillette checked in here at the Glenmore in July 1906. Well, not here exactly. The actual inn was torn down years ago. Anyway, they weren't married, but she was pregnant with his child. Not good."

Sam shook his head. "No, not if it was 1906."

"Nope." Jenn continued, "Chester rents a boat for the two of them. No one notices that he's the only one who comes back. They find her body at the end of South Bay with her head bashed in, that racquet in the reeds, and Chester is hiding out under his own name in an inn down in Inlet. He claims she jumped, but after a trial that's covered as far away as Sacramento, he's sentenced to death by electrocution."

She watched as the Winchesters shared a significant glance.

"Anything strange ever happen over in, uh, South Bay, was it?" Dean asked her.

Jenn laughed. "You mean other than a 100-year-old homicide that put this lake in the middle of nowhere in the national spotlight?"

They both gave her exasperated looks.

She raised an eyebrow. "What, are you guys the ghostbusters or something?"

Dean quickly glanced at his beer before shooting her the trademark grin he knew could derail most women. "Or something."

There was something in the look she gave Dean, and Sam knew. He knew that she knew. He did not know how, only that she did.

"Listen," she glanced down at her watch, "my shift finishes in 15 minutes. I'm going to do a last run around the place, clear some tables. Then we can talk somewhere else, okay? Not where the kids can overhear."

"Uh, sure," Dean responded before she was gone around the counter.

When she was out of earshot, Sam turned to Dean. "Dude, she knows."

Dean looked at him incredulously. "What do you mean, 'she knows'? How could she possibly know? It's not like she's heard of us. She said it herself: we're in the ass end of bumfuck."

Sam looked around before leaning in closer. "I have no idea how she knows, but come on! Did you not see the look she gave you? And since when does being in the ass end of bumfuck stop the supernatural from happening? Hell, it usually happens there!"

"Well, what do you suggest we do?" Dean asked with a hint of sarcasm, folding his arms.

"I don't know. What do you usually do? Toss a little holy water on her to see if she burns?"

"Oh, funny." Dean finished off the last of the beer.

Jenn reappeared and handed off her apron to the man who appeared behind the counter with her. As she pulled on her sweatshirt, Dean's eyes were drawn to the band of skin that was exposed when her shirt rode up. He and Sam stood when she approached them, shouldering a canvass bag.

"Do you have a car out front?" she asked.

"Yeah, why?"

She responded, walking towards the door, "Leave it. The access road doesn't reach my camp so we're going to take the boat. We should all fit without sinking."

"'Without sinking'?" Sam repeated as they followed her out.

"Well, it's small, but it'll hold the three of us and your things."

The brothers stopped.

"Wait," Dean interjected. "Our things?"

Turning to them, Jenn grinned. "You don't really expect me to let you sleep in that fire trap do you?"

They shared an incredulous look. "Don't you work there?" Sam asked.

She laughed. "I work in the bar. That doesn't mean I'd actually recommend any of the rooms upstairs to anybody. This your car?" she asked, stopping next to the Impala parked next to the side of the building.

"How'd you guess?" Dean asked, popping the trunk and discreetly packing some weapons into a second duffle.

"Well, the Kansas plates were a bit of a hint," she responded, leaning up against the car. "And besides, no one up here drives a muscle car—shitty traction in the winter. Four-wheel drive is a necessity when every snow storm dumps about a foot." Noticing that the men removed their bags, she pushed off the car and led the way down to the dock.

"So, Jenn, tell me," Dean started, "why should we be trusting a complete stranger?"

Jenn did a little jog to a small Alumacraft tethered to the end of the dock. "If you're really that worried about me, it wouldn't be all that hard to push me overboard. I mean, it's not like I'm twice _your_ body weight."

Sam shrugged. "She's got a point."

She clapped her hands together. "Alright, bags go in the middle. Dean, I'm gonna need you to sit up in the bow." Dean did as directed. "Also, at your feet is a flashlight. My bow light's out and I haven't had a chance to replace it yet. Could you just hold it steady straight out? I might know where I'm going, but having other boats be able to see me is a bonus."

"Uh, where should I go?" Sam asked as Jenn loosened the daisy chain knot that kept the bow tethered at the dock.

"Sit towards the back. No, the far side. I'm going to need to get in once I push off."

Sam did as directed while Jenn loosened the knot from the stern. She pushed the boat away from the dock and hopped in. She tugged on the motor cord to get the engine started and they sped away across the lake into the night.

Dean kept the light shining steady over the bow, marveling at how if he looked up at the sky he could actually see the Milky Way. It wasn't exactly a new sight, since they were often out in the middle of nowhere where there were no lights, but it was still pretty cool. Speaking of cool, since when was is this brisk in July?

Jenn eased the boat next to her dock and Dean hopped out to guide it alongside then tying the bow off. She killed the engine and tied up the stern. After she passed the bags to the brothers on the dock, Sam helped her out of the boat. Taking the flashlight from Dean, she led the way through the boat house and up the path to the camp.

Dean and Sam peered out into the dark woods as they followed her. While there were no reports of significant activity in the area, it never hurt to be cautious. Not a hundred yards later, the trees opened up to a modestly-sized cabin that had a large porch facing the lake. Off to one side of it, a hammock was strung up. Jenn flicked on the porch light and opened the door, gesturing for them to follow her in.

As they crossed the threshold, Sam nudged Dean and pointed down.

"Salt?" Dean asked, amused. So she did know.

Jenn's voice drifted back from the kitchen where she had gone to turn some more lights on. "I live alone on a haunted lake. Of course I'm going to have salt."

Following her into the kitchen, Sam remarked, "So the lake _is_ haunted."

She set a pot of water onto the stove to let it boil. "The violent murder of a pregnant woman? Of course it's haunted! Although, nowadays Grace is a more friendly spirit." She went to the fridge and brought out fresh beer for the three of them. "On the anniversary of her death, residents go over to South Bay to pay our respects, leave flowers, pray for the repose of her soul and whatnot."

Dean took a gulp. "So she's not vengeful? No possessions? No mysterious disappearances?"

Jenn adopted a thoughtful look, considering the question. "At the beginning, yeah. Yeah, there were. They were mostly written off as hiking related, but tapered off after Gillette's execution. I recall there being a few sporadic disappearances, but once the chapel was built and the congregation decided to hold the first memorial service, they pretty much stopped.

"There was a poltergeist over in Old Forge a few years back, but that was taken care of. Two weeks ago, I had a vampire nest try to sell me some bullshit about being _vegetarian_, if you'd believe it."

Dean choked on his beer while Sam did a double take. "Did you say 'vegetarian'?"

Jenn took a pull from her bottle. "Yeah, something about not drinking human blood. Bullshit."

"Are you a hunter, then?" Sam asked. Dean was very interested in her answer.

She shrugged. "I suppose you could say that. Sort of. I was active a few years ago in Cleveland, but now I'm back here. I just take care of the things that cross my path now, not go out and look for stuff." She got up to pour some pasta in the now boiling water. "Oh! If either of you want a shower, it's down the hall and the first door on the left. And don't drink the tap water. It comes straight out of the lake."

"You know," Dean stood, "I think I'll take that shower." Shooting a look to Sam, he exited the room.

Jenn started to chop some vegetables.

"Is there anything I could do to help?" Sam asked.

"Help me slice the chicken?"

He smiled, "Yeah, sure."

They worked in silence for a few moments.

Sam broke the silence. "How did you get involved in hunting?"

Jenn chewed on her lip. "One night when I was 15, my friends and I went into town to get ice cream. We got separated. I had to use the bathroom and didn't tell them. They didn't realize that I wasn't with them when they left. It wasn't that bad. Inlet's small and my mom was going to pick us up soon anyways."

She scraped the vegetables off the cutting board into the pan. "Suddenly I was surrounded by this group of vampires looking for a snack on their way to more… fruitful land. They actually got me." She gestured to a scar on her neck as Sam winced. "Then I'm on the ground and I see this lady, and she's kicking ass."

Sam put the chicken in the pan, too. He stirred it while Jenn set the table. "What happened after that?"

"Things got really hairy when I was 17." Sam didn't ask her to elaborate. She seemed shaken enough by the memories. "We got through that, and she heard about a few friends of hers setting up a sort of home base in Cleveland. I studied with them for about two years and came back here."

"Where's your friend now?" Sam asked.

"Dead," Jenn responded briskly. "Last year. She was doing a favor for a friend in St. Petersburg and it was too big."

Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

"Hey, Sammy! Shower's all yours." Dean strode back into the kitchen.

"Food'll be ready in about 10 minutes," Jenn called at Sam's retreating back. Turning to Dean, she asked, "So how much did you hear?"

Dean blinked. "Well…"

She smirked. "That was a very quick shower."

He chuckled and tried what he knew was his best panty-dropping grin. "Oh, were you paying that close attention?"

She moved to swat his shoulder, but he caught her wrist. "Let's see what you can do," he challenged.

"Are you sure 10 minutes is enough time?" she asked pulling her wrist with his hand still attached close to her face.

Dean stepped closer to her. "Oh, that's more than enough time, sweetheart."

Jenn aimed a palm strike at his elbow, forcing him to release her wrist. "We haven't known each other long enough for you to call me 'sweetheart'. Outside. I'm not ruining my kitchen just to prove how good I am."

He followed her through the screen door. "Yes, ma'am." Then he had to duck a right hook to his face. "Woah!" he exclaimed before blocking a quick succession of forward jabs.

Using his right hand to deflect a punch from her left, he grabbed the point just above her elbow, immobilizing her arm. Her upper body twisted toward him and he sent an elbow jab between her shoulder blades causing her to fall to the ground with a grunt.

Jenn rolled out of the way to avoid his strike and flipped to her feet. She sent a roundhouse kick to Dean's head, which he blocked, before she reversed direction and aimed a kick just above his knee, taking him to the ground.

Dean recovered and tackled her to the ground, but she used his forward momentum to somersault him over her head. Landing in a crouch, Jenn watched as Dean righted himself after hitting a tree.

They exchanged a few more punches before Dean grabbed her shoulders and landed two knee strikes to her solar plexus. Jenn brought her arms up in between his and, like in the kitchen, jabbed at his elbows to loosen his grip. Now at close range, she pulled her right arm back and struck.

They both froze, breathing heavily. The heel of her hand was a hair's breadth from connecting with his heart. Dean knew that if she put enough force behind it, it would kill him.

"Hey, guys?" Sam broke the silence. "Food's ready."

Jenn lowered her arm and sagged. Dean slipped an arm around her waist, not quite willing to admit he might need the support as well. He looked down at her when she whistled in reaction to the bruises already forming on her torso.

"Damn, Dean, you've got bony knees," she joked. Feeling around, she added, "Nothing's broken, so don't worry."

Dean chuckled as he shook out his knee. "You like to go for the joints, don't you?"

She extricated herself from him and started dishing the food out onto plates. "Be glad I didn't feel like going after your balls."

Dean sputtered as Sam burst out laughing. "Man, don't even try to come up with a response to that!"

They ate in a friendly silence before Jenn asked, "So what's going on up at the Stillwater Reservoir?"

The brothers had a brief nonverbal conversation before Sam put down his utensils. "We've isolated a pattern of disappearances. Every five years a couple goes missing around the July full moon. Now, nothing connects the couples other than that they're young and usually newly married."

Jenn chewed on her thumbnail. "Well, it can't be a werewolf, because you'd have a problem every full moon and I definitely would have heard if there was a pack around here. I don't go after werewolves unless they're causing trouble, since they're only a danger during the full moon and the day before and after. Not many are looking to cause trouble."

Dean nodded. "It doesn't fit the profile, so we're going up to investigate. The full moon is in four days and it's been five years since the last incident."

"So you're going to go up and stop what's going on before more people die," Jenn finished for him.

"Exactly." Dean winced as Sam kicked him under the table, giving him a pointed look. "Uh, Jenn," he continued, "we were wondering if, since you know the area and what we do, we were wondering if you'd come check it out with us." He gave an exasperated look to Sam.

Jenn pretended not to notice. "Sure. We can leave in the morning. The reservoir is only about 45 minutes from here. What sort of supplies should I bring?"

"A range of weapons, since we don't know what we're dealing with," Sam answered.

She nodded, "So stakes, silver-bladed knives, I've got a scythe—"

"Scythe?" they asked simultaneously.

"What? It's special!"

Dean shrugged. "You got a shotgun?"

"Yeah, but I don't usually use it for this type of hunt."

"Bring it," he ordered. "We've made rock salt rounds."

Jenn shook her head. "I've never even thought of that! Now that's a decent ranged weapon!" She looked at the time and groaned. "It's getting late. I'm going to go shower and we'll leave after breakfast in the morning. Let me just get you some blankets first." She rummaged through a closet. "The couch over here pulls out into a futon, and the spare bedroom already has clean sheets. Feel free to fight amongst yourselves over your sleeping arrangements. But don't destroy my house!" She winked and made her way into the bathroom.

Once the water started running, Dean turned to Sam and smacked him upside the head. "What the hell was that for?"

"Ow! Dean! You wouldn't have asked her otherwise!"

"Oh for fuck's sake, Sammy," Dean groaned. "We don't need a woman on the job with us! It'll be nothing but trouble."

"Don't be such an ass. You fought her. She's good. You beat her up good, but she won. And she knows what she's doing."

Dean got up and started pacing. "She's not telling us the whole truth, Sam."

Sam threw up his arms. "I know that! But we didn't tell her about Dad, or about Mom. That puts us pretty even, don't you think?"

Dean sighed. "Fine. We'll see how she does on the Stillwater job."

Just then, the bathroom door opened and Jenn emerged wrapped in a rather short towel. Waving, she said, "I'll see you guys in the morning."

"G'night," Sam called back. Dean was rather fixed on her bare legs and wished her a slightly delayed good night.

Sam noticed and rolled his eyes. He shouldered his bags and turned to his older brother. "Don't get too distracted."

Dean gestured at himself with a look of surprise on his face. "Who, me?"

Sam just shook his head and disappeared into the spare bedroom.

Turning out the lights in the kitchen, Dean muttered, "Guess I've got the pullout." As he stripped down to his boxers, he thought about Jenn. She was an enigma. Sure, he'd run into female hunters occasionally with Dad, but something about Jenn was different. Maybe it was because they were probably about the same age, whereas the other women he'd come across were older. He was not sure. But there was something.

Her choice of weaponry was sure different. She didn't fight with guns—only had close range weapons. He was impressed in spite of himself. Going up against the unknown without something long-range was something even he would hesitate doing.

He settled down under the blankets with one thought running through his mind: who was Jenn?

* * *

A/N: Well, there it is. The Stillwater job will be in Part Two (a separate story), which I'll have up after I update "The Confession in the Cathedral". I haven't decided how long this series will be, but it will follow the show a bit, but also have some original plot lines.

Also, the Grace Brown story is true. You can read a fictionalized account in either "An American Tragedy" or "A Northern Light". I took some liberties with lake events after Gillette's execution, but the circumstances of her death are true.

Please let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or anything recognizable. This is being written purely for pleasure and not for profit.


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